


Netflix and Turtles

by marnies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I honestly just love Tim Burton, It's Halloween, M/M, Nightmares, Sam is a narcoleptic moose, Sleepy Cuddles, Snuggly Boys, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Freeform, fall - Freeform, human cas, it's a good time, netflix, never written anything this fluffy before, tim burton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marnies/pseuds/marnies
Summary: The corner of Cas’s lip turned up in his sleep, and Dean was thinking maybe, just maybe, he was a little bit in love with him.





	Netflix and Turtles

**Author's Note:**

> So if you didn't notice I just deleted most of my stories because I didn't like them. Please don't hate me. Here's a Destiel oneshot.

There was Castiel and there was Cas. That’s how Dean saw it, anyway. Castiel was the all-mighty, all-powerful angel warrior who could bring mortals to the ground with just a touch, or liquify their organs with his voice. Cas was the man who was really just a kid, who loved bees and kittens, and despite his centuries old wisdom, still had whole worlds to discover. Generally, these two aspects of the angel were worn respectively; Castiel battled demons, while Cas made sandwiches and tripped over himself. That’s why it was interesting to watch Cas suddenly cut off from the roots of half of his identity. Being human, it was hard to find the kind of dignity Castiel carried, and his frustration was palpable.

Often, while he was human, qualities that came unnoticed in Castiel, were unbearably prominent in Cas. Most, Dean realized, had always been there, just hidden under the bloody trenchcoat and authoritative blue eyes. Kind of like a child hiding behind a scary mask. One example was how completely unable to care for himself he was. This wouldn’t have been much of an issue in itself. The problem was his unrelenting, fucked up stubbornness.

It didn’t matter if he felt like Cas or Castiel. Cas was stubborn. Human Cas was even more stubborn.

Dean supposed being stripped of a power he’d possessed for thousands of years, and was essentially a part of himself would have been traumatic. It would be like Dean losing his legs, his eyesight, or his right arm. Denial was a normal,  _ human  _ reaction to trauma. But this wasn’t quite denial. This really was just Cas’s raw obstinacy.

For weeks after he transitioned to human life, Cas still refused to believe he was anything but an all-powerful angel of the Lord. Or maybe he didn’t believe it any more than Dean did, and simply wanted the respect and power he was usually regarded with. Either way, it was bullshit to Dean. Sometimes it was even heartbreaking. Not only did Cas not know how to care for himself, but he refused to acknowledge that he even needed care to begin with. He’d never eaten, slept, drank, showered, socialized, or performed any of these basic human needs before--why start now?

Cas was sprawled in a library chair, looking constipated and petulant as usual, squinting at the book in front of him. It was probably some sort of lore. Maybe it was about demons, or spirits, or chupacabras, or whatever else he had no reason to be studying on thirty hours without sleep. His dark circles had circles. But he would not budge.

“Angels don’t need sleep, Dean.” He said without looking up. “I believe I’ve told you this.”

With anyone else, it would be easy to snap--to yell at him that he wasn’t an angel, that he’d fucked that right up and was about to fuck being a human right up if he didn’t get some goddamn sleep--but the reprimand died before it reached Dean’s tongue.

Dean couldn’t do that to Cas.

Instead, he tried a more subtle approach that he hadn’t put into action since he was eight and Sammy was a nap-deprived four-year-old. He left Cas alone and dug through his own closet, changing into sweatpants. After that, he dug out their softest blanket and a pair of  _ Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles _ pajama pants he was certain he’d bought while he was drunk and Sam wasn’t there to stop him. It didn’t really matter where they’d come from, though. What mattered was that they were big enough and soft enough and they were just what Cas needed right now. He pulled a worn AC/DC shirt from the back of the closet, decided it smelled okay, and crept back into the library.

“Hey Buddy.”

It was gentle, and from far enough away, but still apparently enough to make Cas jump. Dean tried not to smile.

“Dean.” He turned back to his book before acknowledging him, as if pretending he’d never looked up at all. “I assumed you’d gone to bed.”

“You thought I--oh.” It was 1:53am. No wonder he hadn’t run into Sam at all. All the more reason, however, to teach his angel of the Lord how to relax. He approached.

“No, but it is pretty late.” He decided to try reasoning one more time. “I know I’m tired. Maybe you should--”

“Dean, no!”

Shit. He was going to have a tantrum. This was the part that was painful to watch, Cas trying to enforce power that he didn’t have. He’d tower and shout, voice hoarse from lack of hydration, until frustration took over and he’d hide in a nest somewhere for the rest of the night. Dean wasn’t totally sure where he went every time, but he’d come back with a blanket dragging by his feet or pillow feathers in his hair. He could tell he hadn’t slept though, no matter where it was that he went.

Dean waited for the inevitable to follow, when a snuffling noise came from a corner of the library.

“Whatsit?” A shaggy head lifted itself from a mountain of books over by Sam’s table. From the looks of it, he’d been there the whole time, probably keeping Cas company before falling asleep like the narcoleptic moose he was. Whoops.

“Uh…” Suddenly Dean found himself extremely uncomfortable. “Mornin’ Sam.”

Sam looked at Dean. Sam looked at Cas. He was starting to look a lot like Dean felt.

“Did I interrupt something?” Sam said.

Cas didn’t miss the opportunity. “Actually, Dean was just leaving.” He glared in a way that might have been scary if it weren’t with watery eyes and interrupted by a yawn. “He understands now that I can take care of myself, and don’t need his coddling. I’M FI--”

Sam stood abruptly, muttering something like ‘that’s my cue’ or ‘shit, shit, shit.’ He almost knocked over the chair.

“Well, this has been great. You two have fun.” He swept up his books from the table in the corner. “Find me anywhere but here.”

The two watched him leave, until they heard the bedroom door shut. They kept their voices down.

“So, um… You don’t want to sleep.”

“Yes--no.” He took a deep breath. “No I don’t want to.”

“That’s what’s been established.”

“Yes.”

Dean sat down next to him, and allowed a moment of silence.

“Well, I hate to tell you this but, uh…” He lifted the pile of clothes sitting in his lap. “My objective isn’t really to get you to bed.”  
“Oh?”

For the first time, Cas looked up from his book. Come to think of it, Dean hadn’t seen him flip a single page since he’d gotten there. He was probably just reading the same paragraphs over and over again.

“Yeah. Truth is, those threads aren’t really doing it for you anymore.” He gently put the bundle on top of Cas’s book. “You stink, Pal. Thought you’d like a change of clothes.”

Cas considered this. “I have been perspiring.” He felt the pants in his lap. “Dean, these are sleep-clothes, aren’t they?”

“They’re comfy. I can take ‘em back, if you want.”

Cas seemed to be thinking hard. He really did look exhausted. He was slumped over and undoubtedly sore. And it was true that he’d been wearing the same clothes for a few days. He needed a break.

“Okay, Dean.”

That was all it took for Dean’s heart to melt. Two words. Cas would put on the pajamas and Dean would wrap him into a sleepy little blanket burrito, put on a movie and they’d fall asleep on the couch, watching Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, or--

“I’ll put on the pajamas, but I won’t sleep.”

Or Dean would take what he could get.

.oOo.

Cas padded into the kitchen just as Dean set out two bowls of popcorn. He looked a little ridiculous with his matted hair and too-big turtle pants. The shirt suited him though, and Dean found himself wondering if it had even been his shirt to begin with.

“What’s this?”

“Ah, well, I thought since we’re both up, and you could use a break from research, we’d have a little movie night.” He handed him a bowl. “You and me.”

Cas stared into the bowl of popcorn like he’d never seen anything like it. Then his eyes drifted up and he looked Dean up and down. Then they went back to the popcorn. He was going to say ‘no.’ He was going to tell Dean to fuck off, then go and read more of the same lines in the same page of the same book for hours and hours and hours, and there was nothing Dean could do about it. He was going to die of dehydration, or his organs would shut down from lack of sleep, and he’d slip through Dean’s fingers, just like--

“Okay, Dean.”

And that was that.

He had to say he was surprised when Cas plopped down on the couch next to him, spilling a bit of popcorn out of the bowl. He wasn’t complaining though. Cas was sitting closer than he had to, body heat warming Dean’s left side through the soft blanket. He figured he’d better choose a movie before he fell asleep himself. Not wanting to stand up, he opted to choose from Netflix, grabbing his laptop from the coffee table.

“Aha!” Cas shifted closer to see what Dean was looking at. His head was close to Dean’s shoulder. He pretended not to notice. “ _ Captain America: Civil War.  _ How about that?” Cas didn’t say anything, but wrinkled his nose slightly. Dean took the hint. “Uhh, what else is here…” He snorted at the next suggestion. “ _ Bee Movie _ ?”

Horror washed over him at the excited look on Cas’s face.

“A movie about bees?”

“No, Cas… Let’s find something else.” He continued to scroll. “Do you want to find a horror movie? It is October and all--”

“What’s this one?” He pointed. Dean followed his finger, which was covered in the blanket still.

“ _ Corpse Bride _ ? Really Cas?”

“I think it looks aesthetically pleasing.”

Normally Dean would be opposed to spending his night watching an animated musical for kids. But, what the hell, it was Cas. He let Cas read the description in detail before pressing ‘play,’ and after that let himself relax and feel safe enjoying it.

Dean watched the childish awe on Cas’s face as he watched Tim Burton’s scene unfold, ink splotching onto paper, bluish church bells ringing, and clay fish being chopped in half. Dean supposed he appreciated the quality of animation, but Cas was transfixed on the movement and flow of the film. He laughed sloppily when Mrs.Van Dort’s ass got stuck in the carriage door, and Dean couldn’t help but think how far the man next to him was from the angel who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition; he kind of liked it.

Gradually, gradually, Cas’s lazy giggles grew lazier, and his heavy eyes grew heavier, and Dean could tell it was only a matter of minutes before he was drooling on his shoulder. Cas wouldn’t have it though, head bobbing up every once in awhile when it had drifted too far down, and breath hitching when it had grown too even. Dean said nothing, letting him watch the movie and do his thing. But his presence was hard to ignore.

Cas’s breath was hot on his neck. He had let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder again and Dean had let it stay there, just this once. He felt Cas’s warmth wrap around him more, trying not to move or comment. The movie was still playing, but Dean wasn’t paying a lot of attention at this point. Cas nuzzled him.

His head shot up once more, and Dean couldn’t hold his tongue for much longer. He wasn’t going to ask Cas why he didn’t sleep. He knew why. He knew why from the way his eyes were wide from terror every time he’d let himself drift off for a minute. He knew why from the way he acted like a bed was his worst possible nightmare. He knew why because he had them too, and they sent him shooting bolt-upright in bed every night. And Cas had more than enough nightmare fuel.

So, instead of asking, Dean held Cas’s hand. He moved so the angel--the man--could wrap himself comfortably around him. He gave him a tight squeeze before putting a hand across his eyes, closing them for him.

“It’s okay, Buddy.”

Cas smiled and Dean would never tell a soul how much his heart swelled. His breath evened and his head sank, this time not springing up again.

Dean turned back to the movie.

_ ‘Wait,’  _ Victor Van Dort was saying, ‘ _ I made a promise.’ _

_ ‘You kept your promise,’  _ The corpse bride said.

Cas let out a soft snore. A bit of hair had fallen in his face and was swaying back and forth with his breath. Dean smiled fondly and brushed it aside, marvelling at his angel.

His angel.

_ ‘You set me free.’ _

It was three in the morning. Sam would be up in a few hours and find him and Cas here, but somehow Dean didn’t care. He felt safe wrapped up in Cas. A feeling he didn’t think he’d have since he was four years old.

No longer caring, Dean placed a kiss on Cas’s ridiculous matted hair.

‘ _ Now I can do the same for you.’ _

“My angel.”

The corner of Cas’s lip turned up in his sleep, and Dean was thinking maybe, just maybe, he was a little bit in love with him.

Dean didn’t dream that night.

.oOo.


End file.
